Proceed to Heaven
by buduica
Summary: Every step Peter takes is toward Narnia even when he's forever cast from her blessed shores. This is a story of a different kind of love.


Peter Pevensie was named a prefect when he entered the fifth form.

This was not a surprise to anyone with the exception of White, the class overachiever. While Peter's grades were solid, and he was a talented athlete, he wasn't the star at anything. He was, however, a general all-rounder, capable of doing anything well although not perfectly.

What made Peter special – and was noted by his teachers and the school's headmaster – was his personality. Peter was serious and devoted, and showed a wisdom far beyond his age. Most of all, he possessed the capacity to listen and was very fair.

It wouldn't have been accurate to say that Peter had many friends, since he had few confidants. Most of his classmates knew he was exceptionally close to his younger brother, but held himself aloof from the rest of his peers. It wasn't arrogance or shyness, so his demeanor just added to his mystique. Most of the boys would have done anything he asked of them, because more than anything, they wanted his approval.

Peter knew this, but never abused his power. Instead, he stood on the edge of the crowds, always watching.

There were a few who didn't like him at all, though they had no reason for loathing him. They noted his passiveness, and couldn't understand his popularity. As far as they could see, Peter didn't have the ability to justify treating him as anything special. One of these boys, a transfer student who'd started school in India, tried to pick a fight with Peter to put him into place.

The boy may have started it, but Peter was the one who ended it.

Peter accepted the first punch to his face without flinching. Around them, a crowd started to gather to see how Peter would deal with the situation.

"Does that make you feel better about yourself?" Peter asked calmly, not stepping back or making a move of his own.

The boy just growled, and took another swing. Quicker than the onlookers could follow, Peter caught the boy's fist in his own hand, stopping the momentum cold. He squeezed it warningly, causing the boy to whimper as he felt the restrained strength of Peter's grip.

"I let you have one swing, since that's the honorable thing to do, but I'm not going to stand here and be your punching bag. I could bloody your nose and break some of your bones if you like, but I don't think that would benefit either of us. I would suggest you think about what I _could_ have done to you," Peter said, his voice level and in control.

He stepped away from his attacker, turning around and showing the boy his back. He walked off without looking back, leaving a crowd of impressed students gossiping in his wake.

The boys couldn't believe what they saw. Pevensie had just gotten the better in a fight without even landing one blow. Wasn't Pevensie _magnificent_?

Edmund, on hearing the rumors from an impressed classmate, had laughed. But then he had smiled, and assured his classmates they had no idea how right they were.

* * *

Peter was unable to explain to Edmund what Aslan had said during that final meeting. Some of it had been so immensely personal that he couldn't share it with another, not even the brother of his flesh and soul.

They sat together in Peter's dorm room about a week after arriving at school. As a prefect, Peter had been awarded a single room, a luxury in short supply. It was nice because at times he needed the peace and quiet and being around so many children was wearing on him.

Once upon a time, they would have spent the entire time talking of Narnia, and of the adventures they'd had while ruling their beloved subjects and land. Now there was awkwardness between them, because while Peter had been told he would never return, Edmund still had the possibility available to him. So instead of talking about Narnia, Edmund was discussing the plebeian things like his grades and what sports team he planned to join.

"-so while football looks like a lot of fun, I fancy rugger a bit more."

"If you're up for spending half your time in a cast, have at it," Peter encouraged. "I hear the school has a very fine nurse."

Edmund pulled a face, and Peter couldn't help laughing. It felt good to laugh over such mundane things, although his heart wasn't entirely in it. His attention was divided between trying to re-assimilate back into the life of an English school boy, and the aching loss of Narnia.

And Edmund, the only one who knew the truth of what was troubling his brother, was unable to ask. Peter wanted to talk about it, but he was unable to find the words to reassure his brother that he was not jealous of Edmund's good fortune.

How could he be? Getting jealous over Narnia entirely defeated the joy Aslan had allowed them to experience. He would not taint his good memories with such foul feeling. Peter knew he'd been privileged to visit that hallowed land twice when so many others would never catch a glimpse of her fair shores.

He wanted to be able to share that love with Edmund, to speak of it freely and without remorse. But Edmund wouldn't be ready, not until he was in the same position. So Peter had to accept Edmund's gift of consideration in the spirit it was meant, and not the unwelcome burden it was.

* * *

Some nights Peter awoke from vivid dreams.

He wondered if it was only his fond imaginings, or if Aslan, in His grace, had decided to send the dreams to keep him informed about what was happening in Narnia. He was and always would be the High King of that distant paradise, and although he may have been forbidden to return, that didn't mean his heart still didn't reside at Cair Paravel.

Those dreams were a mixed blessing, like offering the scent of the most sumptuous leg of lamb without being offered a seat at the table. But Peter had faith in Aslan and knew that the Lion was not cruel. If the dreams truly were visions of Narnia, then there was a purpose. That was something he'd learned during the time as king. Everything existed by the will of Aslan, the son of the Emperor Over the Sea.

But he would awaken feeling shaken after dreaming of a battle between the giants and unfamiliar but recognizable Narnians. He recognized the flags that his troops had once borne upon the battlefields, bearing the subtle changes that the passage of time wrought, as they flew proudly in the wind. There were Satyrs and Fauns, Centaurs and Dwarfs, all led by royal-appearing men in Narnian garb. The battles were fast and furious, but the Narnians always won, by the Grace of Aslan.

While many would have dreaded dreaming about war for Peter it was different. He had been a warrior king, a man who experienced battle more times than he could count. Peter did not relish going to the battlefield, but he'd been good at it and understood that things worth having (sweet Narnia, the green land of ideals) were worth fighting for. Those dreams of battle served to assure Peter that all was well with his country, paradoxically enough.

After one of those dreams, he would get out of bed and go to his desk to write. He would write to Lucy about his dreams for she had always loved to hear his tales. He would write and write, describing the Army maneuvers and what the people he'd seen had looked like. He would talk about the seasons and the scents (for Peter dreamed with all five senses), and how the people appeared to be faring. It would take him hours to recount one dream, spilled out across pages and pages in his beautiful handwriting, but when he finished a curious serenity would envelop him as he was reassured of an essential truth: Narnia could survive without him. To Peter, knowing that was the greatest blessing.

He never mailed any of those letters to Lucy, who frequently accused him of being a horrible correspondent.

* * *

A year after his final visit to Narnia, he stayed with the Professor over the summer holidays. His two younger siblings were sent to their aunt's house, while Susan went touring America with their parents.

The train ride was long, and he was tired by the time it finally arrived at his destination. To his surprise, a small, neatly-kept older woman met him at the station.

The woman looked old as the Professor, but she moved more like Lucy than Peter's mother, with barely contained energy emanating off her as she strolled up to him boldly. "You're Peter Pevensie," she said, rather than asked, before giving him a warm smile.

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her forthrightness and certainty. "Yes, ma'am."

She answered his unspoken question. "I could tell by the look in your eyes," she said. "I'm Polly Plummer."

Startled, he looked her directly in the face, and found the answer there. There was something about her bright blue eyes, an ageless quality of love and humor, that explained the situation to him without verbal confirmation.

This woman had visited Narnia as well.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said, and though the polite phrase was rote, he couldn't wait to talk with her. The Professor had promised his siblings and him that they would meet others who had visited Narnia, but this was the first time it had happened to him. Excitement started to bubble through him, a longing that he'd kept secret for too long. This woman, unlike Edmund, might understand.

"Gather your luggage and come with me, and I'll take you back in my car," she replied.

After securing his belongings in the trunk of a nearly-new Aston, he took his seat up in the front. Miss Plummer smiled at him before turning the engine on, and a moment later they were off.

They were quiet as she navigated through the narrow streets, which was stop-and-go driving due to heavy congestion. The old lady focused on the task with intense eyes, but no sign of frustration, even when she was rudely cut off. Instead, she mustered great patience, which Peter respected... and found frustrating. He didn't know how to start the conversation, and having an icebreaker of commiseration would help.

Finally he decided to come out and say it. "Do you know Aslan?"

Speaking that sacred name made the air in the car lighter, the scenery outside the car just a bit brighter. It wasn't the same magical effect that it bore in Narnia (but then again nothing was as magical as Narnia), but it still maintained its power across the worlds.

The woman laughed, but kept her eyes on the road. "Wait until we're out of the city so we can talk. Speaking of Narnia can be distracting," she advised.

As they worked their way clear, the atmosphere was like waiting for Christmas morning to arrive, full of eagerness and anticipation, with the knowledge that a wonderful present lay just beyond the ticking minutes.

Finally the houses became fewer, and the road rougher. As they turned onto a dirt road, Peter decided he'd waited long enough. "Have you been to Narnia?" he asked.

"I was there the day it was born," she said.

Peter knew that when he'd returned to Narnia, it had been like the return of King Arthur to England. But this was like meeting Eve herself. Returning to Narnia the second time had shown him what it was like to be a legend, but now he was having the experience inverted. Tales of Lord Digory and Lady Polly had been a staple in Narnian storytelling, and he'd never thought he'd someday meet her.

"You're Lady Polly," he said, feeling like he'd been sucker-punched. "But how?"

She laughed, and he realized that someday, Lucy would grow into an old woman like this. A woman who still maintained some of the wonder of childhood, along with a curious wisdom that was infallible.

"Didn't you know? The Professor's name is _Digory_ Kirke."

* * *

Professor Kirke liked to take long walks, and Peter took to accompanying the man. The professor seemed frail to Peter, like a gust of unexpected wind could knock him over, and Peter worried for the old man's safety. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor, so never actually voiced his concern.

Those walks were Peter's favorite part of the staying with the older gentleman. Revising for his tests could get boring as he tried to cram facts and figures into his head, but these more unrestrained conversations were enlightening. The man was a font of knowledge, and Peter considered it a pity that the Professor no longer gave lectures.

The Professor treated him like an adult, an equal, and Peter found that gratifying. Once, he had been an adult in charge of an entire kingdom, and at times he chafed against the restraints of English society, in which he was regarded as only a school boy. Being able to speak freely, without worrying about screening himself as to act his age, was liberating.

They discussed the battles Peter had fought, with particular detail to the terrain. Professor Kirke was fascinated by world's landscape, and how the geography had evolved in thousand years since Aslan sang Narnia into life.

"It's a fascinating study, of how the world evolves right before our very eyes," the Professor said.

Peter, who'd spent the last term in a school that taught evolution, narrowed his eyes. "Do you believe in evolution?" he asked. He'd been extremely uncomfortable at the science-mad professor's insistence that God had no part in the way the world worked. The whole idea was blasphemous to someone like Peter, who had witnessed Aslan's majesty.

"My dear boy, I believe in Aslan and I believe in science. The two should not be mutually exclusive," the Professor responded. "Surely you know that Aslan has a plan for all things. Who is to say that evolution is not led by his grander design?"

"Aslan isn't the type to control things on the minute level," Peter said. He and Edmund had debated this when they had ruled from Cair Paravel and suffered losses of their devoted subjects in battle. "He let the Witch's evil fester for a century before the time was right. Surely Aslan didn't intentionally let Narnia suffer for so long."

"The answer, dear boy, is really quite simple. Tell me, why do bad things happen to good people?" the Professor asked in his most reasonable voice.

"Because there is evil in the world," Peter answered.

"And how come there is evil in the world, if Aslan also exists?"

That had been a question that had been plaguing Peter ever since the Professor had confessed his role in bringing Jadis to Narnia. How could Aslan let something so precious be tainted by one boy's foolishness? While the Professor had labored to correct his mistake, the damage had already been done. "It seems like Aslan and evil cannot exist in the same place."

Professor Kirke smiled and took a puff on his pipe, sending up a stream of white smoke. "Now, I can't tell you this is a fact, but I believe evil exists so we can _be_ good.

"It's all about choice, Peter, in both this world and Narnia. Germany killed so many Jews because they _chose_ to, but our nation decided to rise up against that kind of tyranny and fight back. I may have been selfish in trying to get Jadis out of this world and trying to abandon her somewhere else, but I attempted to make amends by retrieving the apple Aslan asked of me. Don't you think Aslan was capable of defeating Jadis on his own?"

"Aslan can do _anything_," Peter said.

"So why did he wait for your family to set things right? It's simple, when you think on it. Bad things happen because we must have free will. Aslan is a lion, and he would not like it if we blindly followed him. Our choice to follow him is what matters most."

* * *

When they came home for the winter hols, Peter was an instant sensation with Susan's friends.

Susan, who had been doing her best to avoid thinking of Narnia, had thrown herself into her "real" life. She liked to attend parties and to go shopping, preferring to remain active and involved. As a pretty and charming girl, Susan had no shortage of friends to spend time with.

Especially after her friends discovered her blue-eyed, blond-haired older brother.

Susan wasn't sure if she was more amused or annoyed by the number of her school chums that admitted crushes on Peter. She'd always known, intellectually, that he was handsome and charismatic, but he was _Peter_ and it was hard to make the mental stretch to see him as a knight-in-shining armor (once it might not have been impossible, but it had been years since she'd played those silly childhood games with her siblings and wasn't about to allow them purchase into her life again).

The holiday parties the Pevensies held were well-attended, and Peter invariably ended up in the center of a gaggle of eager females ranging from their teens to well into their twenties. Peter was younger than half, but many women were willing to ignore his youth. Too many men had been lost to the war, and some women knew their chances of finding a husband were slight. To those, golden Peter seemed like an ideal dream.

Susan adored her older brother, she resented the position his existence put her in. Peter was always pleasant to the women who tried to get his attention, but he was careful not to show any favor. He had told her he didn't want to break any of their hearts, and he knew his heart had been given a long time ago to something greater than mere romance. His love was for Narnia; that splendid country was his cherished bride, and he could not open himself up to another relationship after having pledged himself to another.

Susan found this one of the most frustrating relicts of that silly game they had believed in. Peter's refusal to grow out of it hurt her deeply, since she hated feeling like the only adult among her siblings. There came a time when childish things need to be set aside, and sensible Peter should have seen it.

His availability was also personally vexing. As long as Peter was unattached, girls would cozy up to Susan attempting to gain an advantage in their pursuit. Susan couldn't be sure which girls wanted to be her friend, and which just wanted her brother.

Peter thought it was all rubbish, just like Susan's developing fascination with material goods. They hadn't had a good, honest conversation in years, and Peter regretted this greatly.

One night, two days before Christmas, she talked him into going to one of the parties as her escort. Their parents didn't like Susan dating, so if Susan wanted a companion, it had to be her older brother, who had planned on begging off. Lucy and Edmund had plans to hide away in their rooms and share stories of Narnia, and he would have preferred to stay with them, but the pleading look in Susan's eyes swayed him against his better judgment. A knight should not leave a lady in need, especially if that lady was his sister.

Since the party was held at their home, Peter was early for the event. Susan gave him a grateful smile as she gently took his arm and led him over to her friend. One girl after another was introduced to him, and it was a struggle to keep their names straight. But a gentleman would endeavor to do so, and Peter managed to memorize them using the mnemonic techniques Professor Kirke had pounded into his head. Rose was wearing a pink shirt, Hannah had a green shirt embroidered with a Holly pattern, Linda was the most Love-sick of them all...

Thankfully, after about an hour of socializing, Susan grabbed Peter's arm and claimed they needed to check on some preparations in the kitchen. Relieved, Peter let himself be led into the kitchen where the servants – hired to cater the event – had left several appealing trays of canapé, made with the best foods available with rationing.

"What do you think?" Susan wanted to know, grinning at him as she pinched a cheese-covered appetizer.

"Think of what?"

She frowned at him like he was bring particularly stupid. "Who do you _like?_ I can arrange for you to have a bit of time together with whomever you'd like to know better."

Peter tried not to flinch too obviously. "Su, they all seem nice enough..." he trailed off, feeling a bit like a broken record.

"But you're still not interested? Peter, you're seventeen. You ought to be interested by now! Father was only a year older when he married mother! And they had you a year after that!"

It wasn't like Peter had never thought of stealing a kiss, but in another life, he'd already experienced that precious first with a charming girl from Archenland after rescuing her from an evil giant. Trying to recreate the experience in England held little appeal. While at times his hormones urged him on, he had the experience and restraint of an adult.

No matter what he said, he wasn't going to satisfy his sister's need to play "normal." Once, Susan might have understood. But once, Susan had been a queen.

"Do we have to fight about this now? Can't you just let me find my own way?"

"We fight because I'm your sister, and I'm worried about you. You're not normal anymore, playing these silly games with Ed and Lucy. Don't you think it's time you grew up?" Her voice was rising, shrill to his ears, and for a second he found himself angry with her.

It would be easiest to agree with her, and fall into the preordained course that most young men would take. For a second, he was tempted to try to quiet her fears about his allegiance to Narnia and promise not to speak of it to her again. Then that second passed, and he was filled with new resolve.

The easiest path was not always the right one. Peter could not for a moment deny the truth of Aslan's existence, no matter how much Susan wished to forget.

It didn't take a psychoanalyst to see what his sister was doing. Peter watched the party swirl around Susan, and he could only see it as a pale specter of the splendor they had known at Cair Paravel.

It was another broken thread in the ties that bound Susan to Narnia. Someday soon, Peter feared, she would break completely free of the past, and embrace the mundane future.

* * *

Meeting his cousin after Eustace's time in Narnia was a revelation.

Lucy and Edmund had already told him they would find their cousin much improved since meeting Aslan, but Peter maintained a healthy core of cynicism. Aslan could work miracles, but a person had to let him in to do so. He couldn't believe Eustace would ever admit that he wasn't perfect to start with.

But over Easter weekend, Polly arranged for the "Friends of Narnia" to meet at her house. It wasn't as big as the professor's old country home had been, but it contained a respectable dining room which was the perfect size for eight people to meet. Susan, not surprisingly, had declined the invitation in favor of a "previous engagement," but all of them knew it was only a polite excuse. Susan would never find time to attend a Narnian-centered gathering.

The Saturday before Easter, they gathered for the day. Peter wasn't sure what would come of it, but he couldn't deny the appeal of being able to speak freely about Narnia. He thought about it daily, but it would be a pleasure to hear others speaking of places and people he'd known.

They didn't waste too much time with the pleasantries, though both he and his siblings were welcoming to Jill Pole. Jill looked shy as he greeted her in traditional Narnian fashion by kissing the back of her hand, but Edmund immediately cut in with a playful jab about Peter's inherent chivalry. It was enough to set them off, since one couldn't mention chivalry without remembering Reepicheep's dashing flare.

Peter listened with amusement as Eustace told the story of his "fight" with the mouse, and couldn't believe the way his cousin admitted he'd been a prat to the noble Animal, smiling in affection memory. Peter knew Aslan changed people, and was capable of miracles. The Great Lion had come back from the death itself, but Peter thought Eustace's reformation might be the bigger miracle.

"Told you so," Edmund whispered into his ear as Eustace turned to Polly and asked what Narnia had been like in its first days.

"I'm happy to tell you, but it might be best if we moved to start dinner," Polly replied. "Otherwise we'll never get there."

They all laughed and agreed to her sensible suggestion, taking seats around the table. Peter found himself at its head, with Polly sitting at the foot. By all rights, the Professor should have been granted that honor, but the others pointed out when Peter tried to demur that he had been High King. He sat with Edmund at his right hand, just like they had done at Cair Paravel, and the Professor took his left side, where Susan used to sit. Peter made a silent prayer to Aslan that Susan would find it in herself to join them again. If Aslan could save Eustace, surely he could save someone as already good as Susan.

* * *

The dinners had become a regular gathering, scheduled whenever a majority of them had the time to make the trip to Polly's house. The Friends of Narnia had become a comfortable gathering, perhaps too comfortable because the appearance of a Narnian specter had shaken them.

Life every day in Narnia had always been a new adventure, a fresh start and a chance to live like yesterday didn't matter. It was hard to remember that over here in the world of their birth, but Lucy mostly managed. It was just exceptionally strange to see both of the worlds colliding like they had earlier that evening, like the thin, penciled line that delineated the worlds had been scuffed with an eraser. As they drove back from Polly's house, Lucy struggled to define what she felt as she sat next to Peter.

While telling stories of Narnia was one of her favorite things, the shock of suddenly finding herself on the cusp of another adventure sent her reeling. She wanted to talk about it, but Peter was brooding and she wasn't sure if he would welcome her intrusion into his thoughts. Edmund had to drive Eustace and Jill to the station separately, though, so they were uncomfortably alone.

Twilight was starting to lay its hand upon the countryside, but there was still enough light for her to make out the tightness in his jaw. His head was erect, and Lucy could almost see the crown set upon his golden head. More than her other siblings, Peter had maintained the aura of grandeur that he had worn as High King, and it didn't take much to bring it to the surface. She found his presence comforting, and was glad he was the one sitting beside her at this moment. Peter had always been the rock, the one they had all leaned upon.

She let her finger wander along the seam where the window met the door, staring out at the peaceful landscape. She loved and admired Peter, although she wasn't as close to him as she was to her other siblings. It was mainly due to the difference in their ages, and their genders. It had always been "Peter and Susan" and "Edmund and Lucy," or the "Boys" and the "Girls." She loved both Susan and Edmund greatly, but a part of her wished that Peter would view her as his equal, and not as his treasured youngest sibling.

It was strange to be thinking about this now, when they'd just experienced the first sign of Narnia in years. The sight of the ghostly noble taunted her with the promise of Aslan. It had been so long since she had seen him, and she would do anything for another minute in his presence. Aslan wasn't cruel, so surely the visitation hadn't been to show them what they couldn't have anymore. Lucy had to believe Narnia needed them again, a need so great that Aslan set aside his prohibition.

She tried to think of something to start the conversation, but knew she'd just babble if she opened her mouth. It was frustrating, to be so close to him and still unable to speak. If it were Edmund beside her...

She frowned, shaking her head. Peter was her brother, too.

"What are you thinking, Peter?"

He took a deep breath, but didn't reply immediately as he considered his words. "I'm thinking of Narnia," he said, "but you know that."

"I know," she said. "It's funny, but I'm thinking of seeing Caspian again, even though I know he's dead. If you or I or both of us end up going back, it's going to become _real_... but I still want to see Narnia more than anything," Lucy said. "Even though it will break my heart to realize who's been lost, I want the chance."

"Narnia is Narnia," Peter replied softly, like that was explanation enough.

And it was, because Lucy remembered the taste of the feasts and the sound of Narnian music and how Narnia was just so much more than anything England had to offer. Nothing here was as good as it was in Narnia. Peter and Lucy had both learned to use their memories of Narnia as a touchstone to remember what really mattered in life, but it was what haunted Susan so badly as she sought to recreate the superficial trappings of what she had been denied.

"If you could return to Narnia, what would be the first thing you would do?"

"Praise Aslan for his grace," Peter said softly. "And then I would take a deep breath and taste the air, because it's been so long since I could breathe freely."

"Since Narnia," Lucy said.

"No," Peter corrected. "Since I admitted that Narnia didn't need me as king. I need Narnia, but it will survive without me."

* * *

His flatmate Paul heckled him a bit after announcing the call was for him. "It's from a gi-irl..." Paul taunted in a sing-song tone.

Peter frowned in confusion for a moment, wondering if it was Lucy, before picking up the phone and making shooing gesture at Paul. Paul gave him a slightly lascivious look, but obediently left.

Peter picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello?" The voice that replied sounded tinny, and Peter thought the line wasn't as good as it could be. "This is Jill Pole."

Peter had only spoken to Jill Pole in the company of others, and thus this call was immediately awkward. But the Scrubbs didn't welcome any contact from "those Pevensies," which was why they had decided to let Jill coordinate her and Eustace's part of the meeting. Peter had sent a wire a couple of days ago confirming the train times.

"Hello, Jill," Peter said, thinking it was odd to call her by her first name, but not having any better form of address. "Did you receive my wire?"

"Oh! Of course!" she exclaimed, before giggling a bit with harassment. "I mean, yes. Sir."

"Call me Peter, please." The pause was long and uncomfortable. "Is there something wrong?"

"I wanted to let you know that we're going to be meeting Lucy and the rest before getting on the train," she said. "I know they were going to take an earlier train, but Miss Plummer decided she didn't want to wait."

Peter processed that for a moment. "That's good news, isn't it? You and Eustace can leave immediately instead of waiting around to say goodbye."

"Yes," Jill said, but she sounded shaky. "If Aslan wants us there, we need to do our best to move quickly."

This was an uncertainty Peter himself had struggled with, but he'd reached his answer. "We wouldn't have seen the specter if Aslan didn't want us involved," he replied. "He works in mysterious ways, sometimes."

"I know," Jill replied, and Peter thought she had to be remembering her meeting on the cliff. Peter had heard the story multiple times. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What was being king of Narnia like?"

"What do you mean? I know you've heard the story multiple times about how we went to Narnia."

Jill's answer came out in a rush, like the words had been kept inside her for so long that she couldn't keep them to herself anymore. "I know I went to Narnia, but I never really spent much time there since we had to travel North. You and your siblings got to live there for years and years, and while I wouldn't swap adventures since I'm proud that we saved Rilian, I wish I'd been able to stay there longer and gotten to know it better."

He twined the cord between his fingers, as he sorted through what she'd said. Peter's immediate thought was that there could never be enough time spent in Narnia. It was true, to an extent, that he had been given far more than Jill had been, because he hadn't just passed through Narnia: he had been named High King, and thus had _become_ Narnia.

But Jill hadn't been told she was too old to return. He didn't know which of them was luckier; himself for having lived in Narnia, or Jill because she still had the chance.

"You saw the most important part of Narnia," Peter told her softly. "You saw Aslan."

There was another long silence, this one more contemplative. "I think you're right," Jill said finally. "And that's why I can't wait to go back. I want to see him so badly."

"You don't need to see him to feel him with you," Peter replied. He remembered the last time he stood in Aslan's presence, with Susan by his side. He still desperately wanted to look into those wise eyes and feel the reassurance of being physically with Aslan, but it wasn't something Peter needed.

"Maybe," Jill said dubiously, and Peter was struck by how young she sounded. She was still a child, and needed to see the tangible proof of Aslan to truly feel safe. Perhaps that was the line that Peter had crossed when he'd said goodbye to Narnia: Peter understood the value of faith. Belief was easy, but faith was hard, and that was where they'd lost Susan.

"It's the truth. You'll understand it someday," he promised. "I'll see you tomorrow, though, so don't let it bother you."

"I shan't," Jill said easily, before asking, "If I end up seeing Aslan again, is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"Just send my love to him," Peter said. "I tell him every day, but I can never say it enough."

He could hear the smile as Jill promised to convey his words before they hung up. They would see each other tomorrow, and Peter could barely wait. He might not be going to Narnia himself, but the opportunity to help his land was enough.

* * *

Peter had been correct in thinking that he wouldn't survive without Narnia. He died the same day as his Narnia died, although he died outside of its borders. But in the end, it wasn't Narnia that truly mattered... it was the one who ruled it.

That day, he only had a second to think and no time to understand what was happening. The train was rounding the corner much too fast, but Peter did not panic. It was not in his nature to worry about things he could not change, so instead he shut his eyes, remembering what Aslan had said to him the day he left Narnia for the last time.

_"Narnia is my country in my beloved world, but it is not the only way to find me,"_ Aslan had said. _"No matter where you are, remember that I walk beside you."_

Peter remembered that, and took comfort that the wonder of Aslan's love would always be there for him. He knew no fear, because there was nothing to be afraid of. As the train raced closer, with his free hand he reached out for where Edmund stood next to him. In his other hand, he felt the warmth of the Lion's mane.


End file.
